


Lost and Found

by neaf



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, kitty!kurt, puppy!blaine, puppykitties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 02:09:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neaf/pseuds/neaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The short adventures of puppy!Blaine and kitty!Kurt, and their owners Burt and Carole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Burt Hummel lived alone, in a house down the street, just like any other house you might see in the quiet suburbs of Ohio. Almost everybody knew who he was, he was the man who opened doors for the old ladies at the local grocery store, who gave coins to the kids for the light-up penny rides. He was the man who lost his wife, but never lost his smile, and he lived alone, in that house down the street, just like another house you might see.

The night he heard scratches at his window, and that tiny little mewling sound, he got up from his armchair and turned off the TV. He listened carefully for a moment, and he put on his robe, and wandered out into the warm evening air. He stepped over the old rose beds, now empty and filled with fallen leaves, to find a tiny brown ball trembling by the lip of the window’s wooden pane, lost and afraid and wide-eyed with fear.

When Burt picked him up, he laughed to himself. He didn’t know what he was doing, he’d never had a pet. But the little brown kitten looked up at him with huge, blue eyes, and stopped trembling all at once. Burt smiled and scratched behind a tiny, warm brown ear and told the kitten his name would be Kurt. The kitten mewled quietly, and burrowed into the warm fabric at the crook of his elbow, and fell asleep.

Kurt was playful, and sleek, and choosy about everything - but Burt always caved, in the end. He bought toy mice and a laser pen, and a cat bed that Kurt never used, and at night let Kurt curl up in his slippers while he watched the game.

The night he heard scratches at his window again, Burt got up out of his seat, and turned off the TV. He looked around in a panic, looked everywhere for Kurt - in his slippers, in his bed, or the top of the bookcase, which was always Kurt’s favorite place to sleep.

But Kurt was by the window, scratching and padding at the glass, mewling and looking back over his shoulder for Burt’s attention. Come here, he willed, come see. Come help.

Burt peered out the window and into the rain, and headlights caught flashes of a cardboard box by the gate in the spray of water and light. Burt put on his coat, and nodded to Kurt, and wandered out into the wet night. Down by the gate, where the cardboard box wilted and sloped sideways, he crouched and peered through. The bottom of the box had fallen out, so it sat like a drooping frame, capturing the tiny echoed whimpers of a small mottled puppy with huge tea-brown eyes. Burt cursed at the weather, and gathered up the small matted mess in his arms, rushing back inside.

He put the puppy down on a blanket, shucking his coat and patting him gently and talking to him in little rants. He apologised for the weather, and the lack of solid structure in cardboard houses, and all the other things that weren’t his fault. You can be Blaine, Burt told him. He always liked that name.

Blaine watched him with fascination, still damp and downcast, until a the little face of a little brown kitten peered out from behind Burt’s knee. Blaine froze still.

Burt glanced between them, and reached out a hand to both. Now boys, he said. Kurt, play nice.

Kurt shifted forward, neck craned and nose twitching as he sniffed at the air and inched closer still. Blaine didn’t move, just watched, and waited, until Kurt was right in front of him and sniffing carefully. Burt held his breath, but with a flicker of tongue, Kurt licked the side of Blaine’s puppy nose, and buried his head under his chin.

For the first time since he brought him inside, Blaine’s tail started wagging frantically. Burt smiled. Now I guess we’re a family, he told them.

Every morning he’d wake up and give them their treats, and they’d wrestle and play around his feet in the evenings, or settle somewhere in a heap. Blaine would shuffle restlessly while Kurt tried in vain to clean him, all the while growing more and more unimpressed with the restless puppy. Burt could almost hear them, if he listened close enough. Hold still, Blaine. Don’t make me sit on you.

But Kurt’s favorite place to sleep was always the top of the bookshelf, Burt knew. He’d grown used to it, over time, and always knew where to look if Kurt went missing. Then one night he heard whimpers, sad little noises like Blaine was lost or stuck somewhere, and he poked his head out of his bedroom to see the puppy sitting at the base of the bookcase, staring up sadly. He’d tried once to climb it, knocking down books and falling off whatever shelves he managed to reach within moments. Burt tried to calm him, to scratch his belly or soothe him, but it did little good.

He woke up the next morning, and checked around the corner, hoping that Blaine had found somewhere to sleep. He smiled when he saw them there, at the base of the bookcase, where Kurt had come down during the night and was buried in Blaine’s fur, purring like an engine all the while.

Burt put down a blanket at the base of the bookcase after that morning, an old fleece covered in little yellow canaries. He’d never not think of it as Kurt and Blaine’s blanket again.

Burt Hummel lived in a house down the street, just like any other house you might see. Everybody knew who he was by name, they’d say Hey Burt, did you see the game? How are the boys? And Burt would smile and chat politely, and open the door for the little old ladies at the grocery store, and when he went home he went home to his family. And he never lost his smile.


	2. Play?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new something furry comes into Kurt and Blaine's lives.

They were both asleep on their blanket, the morning Burt asked Carole to move in. Both of them, passed out in a random sunbeam that fell just so across the floor by the bookcase, clueless as to what was about to come into their house.

They loved Carole - she snuck them extra treats, and she knew just the right spot to scratch behind Kurt’s ears, just the right spot on Blaine’s side to make his leg do the kicky thing that amused Kurt so much.

But when Carole moved in she brought someone with her - a giant mountain of fur that was mostly legs and a long, thwapping tail that knocked over every chair in proximity.

Blaine and Kurt hid, when the monster came into the house, they hid under the couch snuggled close up together and Kurt buried his face in the fur at Blaine’s shoulder. And Blaine would let out little growling noises whenever those big paws went by the gap under the couch.

After the second or third time the big paws passed by, they stopped, and suddenly a giant, wet nose pushed under the edge of the couch, sniffing and snuffling and making little sounds. _Hello?_

Blaine nipped at it, and growled, and told it to stay away, thank you, we don’t need any monsters in here.

The big dog flattened itself to the floor, chin on the ground, and peered under the couch excitedly at the two little balls of fur huddled together in fear.

The big dog’s eyes lit up, and he wagged his tail frantically, his long snout lifting almost into a confused smile. _PLAY?_

Blaine and Kurt froze, bewildered. They’d never met a monster before, let alone one who wanted to play, they told him.

_My person calls me Finn! HI. You’re small and I like you. Play? PLAY! Play?_

Kurt narrowed his eyes at the big dopey face peering in at them.

Blaine blinked, and looked at Kurt, and then they both looked back at the giant, grinning dog in front of them, whose tail was still wagging, his head now tilted questioningly. _Play?_

Blaine looked at Kurt again and nipped at his ear. _Can we keep him?_


	3. Adventures in the Sitting Bowl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If there's anything Kurt hates, it's baths.

Strictly speaking, Kurt was a very, very clean kitty. He groomed himself to well-practiced perfection, making sure there was nary a hair out of place most days, and he was quite proud of his shiny coat and smooth tail. Sometimes a random run in with Finn would leave him a little worse for wear, especially if he was in one of his more excitable moods or had a new toy, but Kurt always managed to find the time to smooth his fur back into place after. It was a ritual he relished, especially when Blaine would sit by him and keep him company. 

So when Kurt got caught on the window ledge, chasing a nap-time sunbeam, and promptly fell out the window, he realised that this? This is what nightmares look like. 

Worse than any leaves or twigs he had to pull out of his coat was the matted mess of dirt and mud that tangled up his underbelly and made even walking an entirely ridiculous affair. He could feel it in his ears, under his collar; it was gross and it was dirty and, quite frankly, it tasted horrible. 

His shocked and miserable yowls had caught Carole’s ear, and she brought him in quickly, cooing and trying to soothe him to little avail. By the time she’d put him down in front of the bathroom mirror and turned the taps in the tub, Kurt had realised this wasn’t something that a lazy afternoon of relaxed self-grooming could fix. 

He didn’t understand at first why Finn’s ears had fallen back and that look of sheer panic had spread across his face when the water started running. Why even Blaine was nowhere in sight. Humans used the sitting bowl all the time, why were his boys afraid?

Then he remembered.

Bath-time.

Those words always came out before Finn’s frantic flashing eyes started, and then came the wailing puppy pleas of _no, no don’t make me, I’ll be good I swear, MOM NO it’s wet and it smells like grandma! NO._

Blaine had been a little better behaved, but Kurt still hated those tiny pitiful noises he’d make while Burt ran over his fur with rough but steady hands, trying to placate him with promises of _soon buddy_ and _not long now we’ll getcha dry._

Kurt, being of impeccable grooming, had always avoided the bath-time curse. Something about being a kitty, he supposed. But as Carole twirled the taps off and shot him a tiny, worried glance, he realised that his time had come.

He silently thanked every higher power for the fact that Blaine wasn’t here to see this.

With one tiny, punctuated yowl he was lifted and eased into the warm water in the sitting bowl. It was shallow enough that it only came up to his shoulders, but still, unpleasant. His skin prickled with the screaming need to get out of the water, and he absently cried again, swiping clawlessly at Carole to try and make her understand.

 _Shh, sweetheart. Oh, oh, honey, I’m so sorry. We’ll get you clean. Just hold on._ Her big, pretty face was riddled with sympathy, her eyes ever-kind, and soft hands working carefully over the matted fur on his belly.

She scooped a handful of water onto his head, stroking her thumbs in circles through his fur to work out the mud as he suppressed a shudder, letting loose another pained yowl in protest.

_Kurt?_

His eyes opened wide at the little bark, and his tiny kitten heart froze in his chest. Blaine. Blaine was at the door, behind Carole, over the edge of the sitting bowl. Oh, god, no.

_Kurt, Kurt, are you okay? What’s wrong? KURT. KURRRT._

Carole threw a glance over her shoulder at the frightened little barks, and scowled softly. _Sweetie, not now,_ she told Blaine.

 _Go play with Finn,_ Kurt yowled softly. _I’ll be out soon._

Blaine gasped. _KURT. You’re in the SITTING BOWL._

Kurt’s head hung forward, limp and embarrassed, grateful for the height of the sitting bowl at that particular moment. _Blaine, please. Just go lie down._

_But Kurt, Kurt, you don’t need to, you’re always clean, what happened?_

Kurt blinked slowly, hackles raising as the water ran down his back and made his skin crawl. _I… I fell. I’m fine, Blaine, go lie down,_ he pleaded.

Carole lifted herself from her knees without warning, patting his head with gentle strokes as she got to her feet. _I’ll be right back, stay still._

She disappeared through the big door, and Kurt tried to keep his tiny body from shivering in the gust of cold air as the water drained from the tub. He could hear Blaine padding closer and closer across the tiles.

 _Blaine, no,_ he yowled.

_But Kurt I want to see._

_I don’t…_ Kurt whimpered pitifully. _I don’t want you to see me like this, okay? Go lie down._

He couldn’t see him, but Kurt could feel Blaine’s frown.

Carole skipped around the tiny puppy as she came back in, towel in hands, and scooped Kurt from the tub. She made soft, soothing sounds in between _there you go_ and _we’ll get you dry again in no time_ and _I’m so sorry sweetie._

Kurt watched her for a moment with huge, bleary eyes, and realised that even though Burt was his person, he could probably make room for Carole too. Yes, he decided. She was his person, too.

The scuffle of paws on wood alerted him back to Blaine’s presence, and he peeked over the edge of the counter before he could stop himself. Blaine was balanced on his back paws, pressed to the side of the bench with a frantic, worried look on his face, tail hanging limp behind him.

 _Oh, Kurt,_ he whined.

 _Please go,_ Kurt grumbled miserably. He didn’t want to turn and look in the mirror, he could feel his fur sticking up at awkward and hideous angles as Carole dried him off with the big blue towel. He could feel how ugly he was.

She smoothed him down as best she could with gentle fingers, coaxing his fur back into place as best as a person really knew how. It took a kitty to get it right, Kurt knew that, but she did mean well.

That is, of course, until she lifted him to put him back down on the ground. At which point he decided that Carole was horrible and oh god why was she doing this didn’t she know Blaine was down there?

With another fond and apologetic look, she patted him once on the head and gathered the towel to take to the laundry, picking up random articles of clothing absently as she went.

Kurt sat still, face down, while Blaine inched carefully closer. 

_Kurt? Kurt you’re clean! Kurt what’s wrong?_ Blaine’s confused little noises were heartbreaking.

Kurt couldn’t bring himself to look up, instead flicking his damp tail uncomfortably.

_I look ugly._

Blaine sat down, staring. His tiny puppy face was pulled into a twist of confusion and surprise as he tilted his head. _What?_

Kurt blinked slowly, wearily, eyes sore from the water. His body hunched.

After a moment of wallowing he felt Blaine press against his shoulder, and almost fell over with surprise as a warm, wet nose and soft snout nuzzled gently under his ear. 

_I don’t understand._ Blaine was looking at him with those big, bright, clueless eyes that Kurt loved so much.

 _I’m wet, and cold, and my fur is going the wrong way and I look ugly._ Kurt reiterated sadly, but he couldn’t keep his miserable tone long with Blaine’s soft muzzle snuggling under his neck.

_But, but. I don’t understand._

_Don’t understand what?_ Kurt asked.

Blaine licked his cheek, and yapped once for emphasis before he went back to trying to cuddle Kurt awkwardly. _I don’t understand ‘ugly’._

Kurt rolled his eyes, lifting his head to avoid a collision with Blaine’s as he kept on rubbing against him affectionately. _It means the opposite of beautiful._

Blaine rocked back on his heels.

 _What is it?_ Kurt fixed him with a wary look.

There was still a hint of confusion in those big hazel eyes, but also a sadness that was completely new. Because even though none of it made sense, Blaine knew he didn’t like it. _I still don’t understand. Why you used that word._

_Why not?_

Because, Blaine rubbed his face under Kurt’s neck again, this time settling against his body and snuggling them together tight.

_You’re perfect._


	4. Merry Shiny Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas Day in the Hummel-Hudson household, and that means PRESENTS.

When Blaine woke up, there were two things he came to realise in a matter of minutes.

The first thing was that it was Shiny Day.

The giveaway on that fact was the thundering sounds being made by Finn’s monstrous paws across the wooden floor as he twisted frantically around and around in circles, barking loudly, _IT’S SHINY DAY! IT’S SHINY DAY! OH BOY!_

The second thing was that Kurt was missing.

Kurt was always asleep with him on their blanket, tucked in to his belly, when he woke up. He was always there, every morning.

But not today ( _SHINY DAY!_ Finn kept barking).

Blaine got to his feet, stumbling sleepily down the hall in a little trot and peering around every corner. _Kurt!_ he barked. _Kuuuuuurt._

His barks turned into whines when he reached the other end of the house, and there was still no sign of him.

There was a delicious smell on the air, and his tummy gurgled pitifully in response. But he didn’t want food, he wanted Kurt. He let out a sad little wail, and raced back to start his search again.

Shiny Day was supposed to be the best day ever. Back when the tree appeared in the big room one day, Finn said Shiny Day was coming, and Kurt and Blaine had asked what that was.

Finn was never a very bright puppy, but he knew what he loved. And what Finn loved was food.

Shiny Day, he told them, was the day that there were given big plates of meat like the people ate, and there was music playing and their people were happy. 

It was the day that the tree got really shiny, and everything was wonderful. And, Finn had said, the very best treats always came in the big red socks that were hanging by the bookcase. The big red socks always had the thing you loved the most.

On hearing that, Kurt and Blaine had checked the big red socks, but they were empty.

 _No, silly,_ Finn had scolded them. _They’re only full on Shiny Day._

When he reached the other end of the house again, still Kurt-less, Blaine sunk to the floor. He didn’t care about the big red socks. He didn’t care about the plates of meat, or the tree. Not without Kurt.

He heard footsteps in the kitchen, and then coming down the hall It was his pretty smelling person who stopped and scratched behind his ear. “What’s the matter, sweetie? It’s Christmas! Come look in your stocking.”

 _SHINY DAY, SHINY DAY!_ Finn barked from the big room.

“Finn, calm down!” she called, laughing as she moved down the hall. She looked back. “Blaine, sweetie. Come on.”

He heard his name amidst the noises she was making at him, but he didn’t feel like moving. He kept flat, chin on the tiles, with his huge tea-brown eyes downcast.

“Oh, honey,” Carole said with a sympathetic frown. She tapped her leg. “Blaine. Come.”

He knew the sound of that one, that was an order. Blaine got up, and sulkily trailed after her back to the big room. She settled on the couch with Burt, and Blaine sunk down again to lie on the floor by her feet, burying his muzzle between his front paws miserably.

His people exchanged big shiny boxes, laughing and making noises he didn’t understand. Finn was already nose-deep in his sock, loudly snarfing down whatever treats had been in there.

Kurt’s big red sock was flat, and empty, and Blaine wanted to howl.

He spied his own big red sock on the floor next to Kurt’s, still full, and eyed it with vague disinterest. Then the red sock did something he didn’t expect. The red sock purred.

Blaine barked in surprise, jumping to his feet and scurrying over to it. He snuffled around the edges, and then the sock began to move, and he dropped back onto his haunches just as Kurt’s head popped out.

_KURT!_

Blaine barrelled into him, head-first, yapping and prancing around in circles excitedly. _KURT THERE YOU ARE!_

Kurt slid out of the sock smoothly, tail flicking in delight. _It’s shiny day,_ he purred.

 _Oh, Kurt, I missed you!_ Blaine yapped as he mouthed at Kurt’s ear playfully, rubbing their faces together. _I woke up and you weren’t there._

 _I’m here,_ Kurt meowed patiently as Blaine kept bumping into him. _Calm down._

_But why were you in the big red sock?_

Kurt fixed him with an adoring look, and pushed his nose under Blaine’s chin, purring loudly. _Finn said the big red socks always had the thing you loved the most._

Blaine let out a soft, happy noise, rubbing his muzzle across Kurt’s ears. _You are._

After dinner, they settled back on their blanket again, curled at the bottom of the bookcase, and Kurt tried to tame the curly fur behind Blaine’s ears.

Blaine blinked wearily at the shiny tree, warm and content with Kurt lying across his back. They’d had their big plates of meat, leaving them over-stuffed and tired. Finn had passed out in a big, fat heap on his mat by the back door, making little contented whimpering noises in his sleep. _Hmmwrff… shiny… wrrff… treats… wrrfrf …_

Kurt’s cleaning slowed to a halt, and he buried his face sleepily in Blaine’s fur, nuzzling down.

Blaine decided he liked Shiny Day, after all. He looked over to where their big red socks were still scattered, and he realised. _Kurt! What about your red sock?_

 _What about it?_ Kurt purred softly.

_It was empty!_

_Of course it was empty,_ Kurt said, giving him one last lick before he drifted off to sleep. 

_You wouldn’t fit in mine._


End file.
